 Whether they may be physical, mental or spiritually oriented, there are a variety of tools that one can use to remain focused, so that the purpose one is drawn toward is not unnecessarily interfered with by a thing or being that has no perceived relevance to achieve that particular goal. In this case, it is important to develop a standard of awareness that enables one to decipher the difference between what is a distractor and what is a facilitator. For those who understand all sensations, all experiences equanimously, however, there should not be a difference to consider. The attempt to deny what might be deemed an unfavorable occurrence, circumstance or situation, results in a life that is lived blindly. A person who accepts the universe's nature of being impermanent and always good, no matter what, does not commit a type of self-imprisonment. With this standard of understanding, blinders serve no purpose.
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On evenings like this I recall being a huge fan of baseball as a kid. I grew up in New York in the 70s. Enough said? And no not the Mets! I specifically remember those rare longer than summer games when not a whole lot would happen for nine dreary innings. Luckily we had sports casters back then who could make the wild swing of a bat more engaging to an eight year old than an oozing slice of 'za' and an iced cold root beer.
I can vividly see myself now clutching onto to my red bat. Alright it was plastic, so what? No runs with overtime looming as the bottom of the 9th opened. Until then there were only a couple of singles and one stolen base from Randolph. Willie I mean. Now that was someone who was not afraid of taking a few extra steps, commitment, sliding head first onto the first while running at full speed... taking calculated chances. A dreamer who could keep the faith goin', for himself and everyone. Otherwise, that particular Saturday afternoon felt as empty as an off-season dugout. Well, the game did not go into extra innings. It finished in an utterly astounding, great way. An unforgettable way that forever instilled a sense of enduring faith and an understanding for what it takes to steal home plate. E~ The contemplation of freedom of speech, resulted in speechlessness.
Hello everybody, Such great energy today. In the past I let my birthday go rather unrecognized. Yesterday, however, I choose to observe and absorb it more than usual, in terms of evolution and gratitude. So much in mind at this moment. I sense the wind a coming. I know that feeling. We all do I imagine. How exciting to open thine arms to God. For now, all I know is that, from yesterday's extra long trek under extraordinary beautiful skies, there is nearly 1 kg of ripe blackberries in the fridge. This is all I really know.
That and the memory of a special event that happened to me many years ago. I will share and try to make it brief. I was walking back to my apartment, not far from the beach in Playa del Rey, California when an unleashed stray dog approached me from behind. All I heard was a vicious growl. The intent of the tone was unmistakable. There wasn't anybody to be seen on the streets. I turned around and sure enough this mid-sized, rather buff, mix breed was poised to attack. Why? I will never know. In that instant I processed three options. The first was to run. The second was to throw the basketball I was carrying at him, and then... ? The third choice was the one I acted on. It, however, was by no means one I took deliberately. Pure instinct quickly had me crouch down, extend my right hand toward him and call out in the most friendly, sweet voice, 'Here puppy. Here puppy'. The dark colored mix went silent. He cocked his head in bewilderment and after what seemed to be the longest pause of silence, let out an enormous bark. A bark of frustration, resentment, defeat, jubilation? I will never know. After that, he jutted immediately off the sidewalk, in between two parked cars and out into the street. At that moment I lost sight of him because a gray car appeared, seemingly from nowhere, like the horse carriage of a ghost. For a couple seconds there was a cloud of vaporized rubber enveloping the entire car and area. After a couple of seconds the piercing scream of the breaks faded to hush. Everything was hush, including my heartbeat. Then suddenly, as the billow rose, the vehicle continued forward ever so slowly, revealing that the dog had indeed made it across to the other side of the street. Never have I seen a tail wrapped between a dog's legs so tightly. This story kept surfacing yesterday. It was an event and lesson I shall never forget. love and peac e~  ... and then, while pouring the coffee, she asked "Did you dream?"
 What isn't seen in Paris or on the cote d'Azur
 So this one goes out to all those looking to be friends with one another.
These gorgeous souls are new to the neighborhood. I just love 'em. Miniature horses are considered to have defective genes- there are three types... Well, when I hang out in front of their coral not far from here, to get to know them and them me, I do not see any imperfection or fault. Sure they might have arthritis and other peculiar ailments / problems, but hey, I surely have mine as do we all. What I see is the bond of their friendship. Yep... that is all and big enough. And as long as we breathe from the same air, I consider us bonded as well. Love and good night! E  I used to drive in my sports car, inch-by-inch, on the 405 freeway, dreaming of a place like this. Where space for body and soul could regain their breath and dignity. The benefits of my Spectrum gym membership did notcompletely satisfy. Although my routine was rigorous and ritual-like, something always went missing. As a child, I knew such places as the one in this photograph. But as time and I moved on, so did those memories, repressed and rerouted into a fragile recess in my brain. God works in mysterious ways, however. Hardships, have a peculiar way of returning us to our innocence, our origins, before the beginning. There is no reason for these eyeballs to run and hide anymore like in a cartoon, from monsters of misunderstanding, misdeeds, mistrust or constipated minds and traffic jams. The earth that I have plowed and the road that I have turned has shown me that the tick of each moment can only move forward with bright and loving eyes. For they are the activators of destiny. For they receive and project each and every ideation. Whether you are cooking a simple meal or picking berries on the side of a road, loving eyes will turn burnt ones beautiful and sour ones sweet. So, tomorrow is not to be feared, yesterday can be fruitful and today is to be cherished. These are the images and realizations I have happily come to share. E  And now finally... I go to sleep with a few joyful tears and a heart filled with gratitude. Once again, today I experienced the bliss of God. Not with my sight or other senses but from deep inside. This was not always the case. I have been blessed to start again and rediscover life as beautiful. To have the desire to express and share is an amazing gift in itself. Before I pull up the covers and close my eyelids I take these thoughts to sleep.
May we all use our unique gifts. May we learn how not to stumble over wicked phantoms of doubt and fear- those I have known too well. Let us evolve in love by unlearning patterns of lack and limitation so that we may un-stifle the flame of righteous ambition. So that we can help our brothers and sisters shine and experience earth as not daunting but divine. So that we can revel in it as it was intended to be, unbroken and sublime. Let us help to illuminate those who are feeling lost, unrecognized and unloved. May justice, equality and faith rise every being from a perceived flood. Where I am now is rather secluded and safe. Nonetheless, I am not untouched. I see what is happening in the states and all around. It is troublesome and saddening, however, it does not siphone my faith. The mounting waves of spiritual consciousness are indubitable and with the aid of this wondrous web, the tide is turning. So Facebook friends, let's continue to stitch a strong new world, not just on the internet but wherever we may be. Let us extend the arms and smile and strive to give full-time, after all love is free, even to cows and bees. Indeed! With this side of country chuckle, I extend these arms very very far and again say good night, as I pull these covers up in greater peace and light. God bless everyon e~
 O'er the rolling beds of wet emerald
She musters for words and images Like a faithful equanimous equine Hauling the wagon forward, steadily
 To the seemingly trapped. To those who feel lost and lonely. To the victims of heinous hands, malicious mouths and unmerciful minds of ignorance, know that this wondrous place is yours. It is not a mirage or magician's hoax. It is indeed a splendid, unencumbered and tranquil place that, after some restoration, continues to stand in form and folklore.
Originally, in the late 18th century, it was home to a farming family. A young French couple who wished to raise their boy and girl safe from tyrannical kings, queens, nobles and revolutions. This may sound familiar. Following this admirable instinct, in a faith filled wagon, they added few and modest belongings to begin searching for their dream existence. A corpse filled and blood stained river, revealed by the light of the virtuous sun and moon, unfailingly guided them south. From a village near Orleans, they chose to head opposite the flow, along the banks of the Loire, deeper and deeper into the heart of the country where no chateau was left unscathed by the rebellion. Their exact final destination was unsure. All they were certain of was that they did not seek confrontation, just a simple place, one that would support the ideals of liberty, equality and fraternity. On this land is where their wagon stopped. Over the years, their happy home, grown children and productive farm proved testament to the power of their faith and love of nature. They raised a herd of Charolais cows, chicken and a few donkeys. They harvested a variety of vegetables and flora, including a modest field of maize, poppy and sunflower. An invincible faith in freedom and the love for the splendor that rises from righteous imagination and intention took root here. Although more than two centuries have past, it is evident by the glow of this mystical place, that the light of their faith and freedom continue to shine. Each time I walk past this house and shed, in the splendor of the surrounding environment, I become more keenly aware of my breath and blessings. A sensation of gratitude overwhelms me. When I hear the distant little voices and sense the sounds in the neighboring forest of Troncais, the bees and Picidae by day, the owls and crickets by night, the beetles, snails and slugs endlessly pulling themselves forward, through the labyrinth of grass and mounds of pure earth, I feel the tips of my fingers and hair follicles tingle with indubitable humility. This place I share with you is a heavenly phenomenon, yet today, many humans might simply call it a pretty farm. It is not an image or romantic fable for the sake of fleeting entertainment. Yes it may resemble the set of a Hollywood movie or Broadway stage play but I assure you there are no tickets, popcorn or programs to buy at this location. Everyday, since discovering it, I keep this authentic scene close to my heart. For those times I slip and fall in rivers of regret and on tear soaked streets, bearing not only my name. I clutch it close, as I would a lifelong friend, for those dire moments I forget what life truly looks like. And so, my desire is for you to have and keep it close too, in your 'back pocket'. Refer to it whenever you need. Let it encourage you to raise your head and dare to look-upward, knowing that your wishful eyes are safe and sound here. This place is yours. Farm on it. Play on it. Explore and create on it, as the faithful family would have welcomed you to. Rest assured that it remains secure from the woeful plague of politicians and goons who drape themselves in costumes that pretend to symbolize justice. Remember this place was created by people who sought liberty, equality and fraternity. They have found and left it for those who wish to follow in their hearts desire. No matter what spiritual, physical or emotional barrier you may ever face, may this wondrous place show you reason and resilience to smile and shine in the faith of freedom. E  Frequently I would draw. As a child growing-up in a tiny and dilapidated Manhattan apartment building, I was fascinated by architecture. My dream was to design homes, to create environments that would nurture the inner and outer self. Well, although I was too young at the time for such important metaphysical distinctions, I did recognize that I wanted to be happier, to feel safer and more free. In hindsight, the intention of becoming an architect was clearly a survival instinct. A soulful attempt to escape the mental and spiritual confines determined by what seemed to be a limiting and lacking physical reality. With only a number two pencil and a lined yellow pad of paper, the spirit used this child's hand, over and over again, to express its divine nature and promise.
A design that I often worked at was that of a ranch style property. It was to someday become my dream house. At first, the idea was simple, a basic ground floor structure with a window on either side of the front door. Eventually, however, I tried to improve upon the idea. I added an extra level, more windows, chimneys, columns, a balcony and a roundabout driveway of course. All of these versions would inevitably end-up balled and tossed in the trash. The house was to sit serenely in the lap of nature. There would be golden sunlight and open space all around it. That was the original and essential idea. The effortless sketch I could never seem to comfortably alter. Without directly trying, today I find myself sitting in a home that reflects that childhood sketch. And with gratitude and humility, I have come to realize that the safety and freedom once yearned for, in the golden sunlight and open space, existed as much back then as it does now, wherever I am, wherever you are. E sitting for nearly eleven hours per day. no visual contact with any other human being. complete silence for the entirety of each twenty-four hour tick. ten days of uninterrupted being. alone with your self, your spirit. alone in the land of unfiltered love. mindful breath. even the spiders and flies are safe. seemingly daunting, exhaustive and undoable. nothing but divine.
A place where nothing you do goes wrong. A place where nobody says or thinks that it is even possible for you to do something wrong. A place where the intention of love guides every word, step or gesture so that it cannot be wrong. One day of your life in such a place, where each and every breath is as it should be, just right. Imagine that.
E PRETTY GOOD NEWS: Militaries around the globe will be modifying their recruitment questionnaires. The old question toward the bottom of the signature page was: 'Are you willing to kill'? The new question will read: 'Are you willing to love?'
 One of my first gallerists told me not to use too many colors in my paintings. She said it was wiser to keep my color spectrum muted since the clients don't want the less expensive pieces to distract from the really expensive ones in their homes. Here is what came from that conversation.
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